


Truth Will Out

by mina_roman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mina_roman/pseuds/mina_roman
Summary: Danger has always followed Ron, Harry and Hermione, or maybe they have chased after it. But it takes the fear of losing their lives for Ron and Hermione to confess what has been brewing for some time.A two-part AU in how the events of the Battle of Malfoy Manor change Ron and Hermione's dynamic.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	1. Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you romioneB who took the time to beta Chapter 1! I really needed the review!

Ron’s heart thumped wildly against his chest. Fear was overwhelming him and the only comfort that he had was the feeling of Hermione’s body pressed tightly against his side. Of all the times they had been in peril, none had been as grave as this, not even close. He didn’t even want to picture what would happen when You-Know-Who showed up, but the image of a green flash of light directed at Hermione and himself was inevitable. They were only spares, Harry Potter’s friends, and Voldemort only wanted Harry. Their efforts over the last few months seemed in vain when in a moment it would not matter anymore whether they had destroyed some of the Horcruxes; the knowledge of their existence had been limited to only them three and the secret would die with them. Ron snapped back to reality hearing Greyback’s words, which instantly sent the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle up. The werewolf’s foul stench reached him as he’d snarled in Hermione’s face before she looked away and nuzzled further into Ron’s arm. Ron tried to wriggle free knowing it was no use, but at least he managed to slip his fingers into Hermione’s damp hand, trying wordlessly to reassure her. He would never let anything happen to her; he would die protecting her.

“Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback.”

“Wait,” said Bellatrix sharply. “All except… except for the Mudblood.”

Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.

“No!” shouted Ron. “You can have me, keep me!”

After the searing pain in his nose from Bellatrix’s jab, Ron’s eyesight fogged up and the reason he had been smacked momentarily left his mind. Then, his thoughts became focused once he heard her scream pierce the high-ceiling room, followed by more terrifying screams echoing off the walls.

“HERMIONE!” cried Ron. He found himself thrown in a dark cellar as Wormtail locked the metal bars and leered down at Harry and him. Ron didn’t hear anything except Hermione’s cries incessantly reverberating, reaching even the dungeon-like room which seemed miles away from where she was. Ron shook the cells’ bars, anxious and furious that he couldn’t be there to stop it. He closed his eyes, concentrating with all his might, envisioning himself Apparating to the drawing room where Hermione was. Never mind he had no wand, never mind that the cellar probably had anti-Apparition enchantments, he just had to get to her. His body trembled and his heart thumped ever faster in his chest. He had _never_ felt as helpless as he did in that moment. He did not even feel like a wizard, he was absolutely powerless against the evil in this house.

“Ron!” yelled Harry, trying to get his best mate to listen. “Luna says she hasn’t been able to escape. We need to work together if we want to save Hermione.”

He could not come undone, and though he ached and felt his mouth dry and his body shake with every new cry from Hermione, he had to focus and figure out with Harry how to save her.

Luna? He hadn’t even noticed Luna’s presence. The cellar was pitch-black but realising that he had the Deluminator still, he reached for it and quickly clicked it. The room was inundated with bright light and he could see Luna and the others for the first time. He gave a small nod to Harry, letting him know that he was listening.

“I’ve been here a few months,” said Luna, staring at Ron mystically through her bruised eyes, “and Griphook says Mr. Ollivander was here before him even. None of us has had an opportunity to get a hold of a wand and escape, there are no windows and there isn’t anything we can use as a weapon.”

Harry walked briskly around the room, looking for anything the others might have missed. Though Luna looked worse for wear, at least she was standing and alert as Ollivander and Griphook were too weak to even manage to sit up. Ron heard the steps creak in time to flick the lights off before Wormtail showed his face, carrying his wand poised to attack.

“I need the goblin,” he stuttered. “Stay back!” Ron had started towards him but stopped. Hermione was no longer screaming, and his stomach lurched at the possible reason why.

“Where’s Hermione?” he demanded of the old rat.

Ignoring his question, Wormtail took Griphook and walked off, locking the door once more. Ron was starting to panic again, but he tried desperately to push out of his mind the horrors he had begun to imagine. He hopelessly tried Disapparating again but did not feel the lurch and knew that it was pointless.

If only I could do magic without a wand, he thought.

“Dobby!”

Harry looked at Ron blankly, unsure if Bellatrix’s hit might have caused him some damage.

“Harry, Dobby knows the Malfoy Manor! He was able to get in and out of Hogwarts from here and isn’t elf magic different to wizard magic?”

Harry’s eyes widened with Ron’s realisation.

“Dobby, I need you to come,” Harry stated clearly. Ron wasn’t sure if this would work, but Harry had been able to call Kreacher to him this way before so he could only hope.

With a loud crack Dobby appeared, his big tennis-ball eyes bulging even more so than usual.

“Harry Potter, sir,” squeaked Dobby the House Elf. “Harry Potter summons me and here I am, back in Dobby’s old master’s house!”

“They have Hermione, Dobby!” interjected Ron before Harry could answer the elf, “You need to save her! Take her to Shell Cottage, it’s my brother Bill’s!”

“No!” said Harry, “Ron, we need to get everyone out. Dobby, can you take Luna and Ollivander? We need to stay and wait for Wormtail to come back with Griphook, then we can take his wand and get Hermione, so Dobby comes back for us! That is, can elves Disapparate with others?”

“Yes, Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby squeaked, “elf magic is much more powerful than wizard’s so we can take more people!”

Ron didn’t feel immediate relief; his anxiousness returned as he heard Hermione bellow, “No please!” He started to pace back and forth; he did not want to wait for Wormtail to return Griphook after they’d been through with Hermione’s questioning. Her screams confirmed she was still alive, but for how much longer? He didn’t even want to think about who was torturing her at the moment. He lashed out against the cell and the metal rumbled as he tried to make as much noise as possible. This was it. He was going to Wormtail back now. Once he started causing a ruckus, not even a minute later the sleazy stump unlocked the door and Harry and Ron jumped on him.

“Dobby go!” cried Harry. Dobby snapped his fingers while Ollivander and Luna held on to him and they were gone. Wormtail was pointing his wand at Harry but started to lower it and neither Ron nor Harry was ready for what happened next. Pettigrew’s silver hand turned on its master, squeezing his throat until Pettigrew croaked his last breath and fell to the earth. Ron snatched the now ownerless wand and tossed it to Harry.

“You take this, distract them while I get Hermione!” Ron ordered. He hated knowing that the Death Eaters would rather attack Harry, but it would cause the perfect distraction for him to save her. Harry agreed with a small nod and stepped out first. The room went quiet as Bellatrix and the Malfoys must have been perplexed to see that Harry had escaped. Ron heard Harry disarm someone, and he could only hope it had been Bellatrix. He looked back over his shoulder just as Harry tossed him a wand. He stormed forwards, frantically searching for Hermione before spotting her bushy brown hair in the opposite corner. His breath caught in his throat when he saw she wasn’t moving. Curses and jinxes zoomed past him, narrowly missing as he sprinted towards her. Just as he was an arm’s length away, Bellatrix turned her attention back to her prey.

“Stup –” he started but cut off before he could finish. Hermione was now standing upright, pressed against Bellatrix who held a knife to her throat. Hermione’s eyes were wide open but turned down as a tear slipped down her face. Ron didn’t move. This wasn’t it.

“That’s it, lower your wand like a good boy,” Bellatrix sneered. “Otherwise, your girlfriend is dead.”

Harry was now next to Ron, but he hadn’t felt him approach. Ron held his breath, if he cursed Bellatrix, there was a possibility that he would hit Hermione. And if his aim was correct, Bellatrix could just as easily slide the blade into Hermione’s neck during her downfall. He didn’t know what to do, and he knew Harry didn’t know either. They both began to lower their wands, fixing their eyes on Hermione as she closed hers. Ron couldn’t bear thinking that Hermione was regretting their actions, he knew that she would have rather they fought Bellatrix, but he just couldn’t do it. If he had only one purpose left, it was to take protect her.

Bellatrix cackled, stepping forward with Hermione, the knife still pressing into her pale skin and spilling a droplet of blood. Ron was too focused on her that he missed what Harry didn’t: Dobby was now in the chandelier above them. Suddenly it broke away, dropping onto Bellatrix who screamed at the pounce. Ron instantly lurched forwards and caught a falling Hermione, crushing her in his arms in relief at first before releasing her into a gentle hold when she had squirmed in pain. Harry stunned the Malfoys before calling again for Dobby. Suddenly Ron felt Harry holding onto him and Hermione along with Griphook, Dobby grasped Harry and they were all lurching into the unknown.

When they finally landed, Ron sprinted with Hermione still tightly in his arms to the cottage where he had first Apparated all those weeks ago after leaving his friends behind. The warm sun against him caused his already hot skin to sweat even more, but despite this, his arms were damper than he would have expected, the moistness making them even warmer. The light illuminated Hermione; her limp body looked even more beaten. Looking down at her arms, Ron saw the dark fluid that was dampening through her t-shirt and onto his own flesh.

“BILL, HELP!” Ron shouted towards the cottage. His brother’s scarred face immediately jumped out and came running towards him.

“What shape does Ron’s patronus take?” Bill asked keeping his distance with his wand aimed at his youngest brother.

“WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!” bellowed Ron, “It’s Hermione Bill, she’s hurt!” Seeing the look on his brother’s anguished face, Bill knew that this was not an imposter, for only Ron could show this much emotion over Hermione. “They found us and Bellatrix took Hermione! Bellatrix was with her!”

Ron couldn’t bring himself to say that Bellatrix had used the Cruciatus on Hermione, he couldn’t bear to remember her screams, or to think about how much blood she had lost. Wasting no time after the discovery, Ron carried Hermione and pushed past the door to the cottage following Bill who had already called Fleur.

“’Over ‘ere,” Fleur called from a bedroom upstairs, where Ron headed at once. Fleur was getting vials and bottles from a cabinet next to a bed where he gently laid Hermione.

“What ‘appened?” asked Fleur, preoccupied with patting down Hermione and checking for her injuries.

“The Cruciatus,” replied Bill, knowing by Ron’s green complexion that he wouldn’t be able to say it.

“Hermione, we’re safe, _you’re safe_ ,” pleaded Ron, stroking Hermione’s face, which despite the day’s warmth and the last hour’s events, was icy to the touch.

“Fleur, she’s bleeding, I think from her midsection,” he said as Fleur’s wand slashed across the air over Hermione’s stomach and pulled apart her tattered shirt but found only bruising. Ron looked down at his own arms which were stained, and as he did so, Fleur let out a gasp.

“Ron…” she looked at Ron with a grimace on her face. She had just rolled up Hermione’s right arm’s sleeve to discover the source of the blood. Fleur hovered her wand over the wound and muttered an incantation to stop the bleeding, and Ron wasn’t sure what he was looking at until Fleur wiped Hermione’s arm with a dampened cloth and then it was obvious what had caused her to gasp. _Mudblood_ had been etched in the flesh of her forearm. Ron’s nausea turned to actual sick as he bent down next to the bed.

“Essence of dittany,” said Ron, wiping his mouth. “ _Accio dittany!_ ” It zoomed into his hands from one of the cupboards, his fingers trembling as he tried to uncork the vial. He and Fleur worked in unison to tend to all her bruising and cuts, Hermione’s body limp throughout. After they had done all that they could, Fleur left Ron in the room.

Everything had happened so fast that he hadn’t noticed Bill and the others scurrying outside. His sole focus had been on attending Hermione and waiting for her to wake up. He needed to see her and know that she was still Hermione. His thoughts kept trailing back to their fifth year when they had visited St. Mungo’s and met Neville’s parents. They too, had been tortured by Bellatrix because she had needed information. _No_ , he thought, _she’ll be okay, she has to be_.

The light knock on the door was lost on Ron, who was too preoccupied with a million scenarios rushing through his mind. Only when Bill nudged Ron did he look up to see his brother’s face.

“Dobby died,” said Bill simply. “Harry is digging a grave outside. I reckon you should go once he finishes. He needs you too.”

How had everything gone so wrong? They had woken up yesterday, or today, he wasn’t sure, but their plan had been simple: to visit Xenophilius Lovegood to ask about the strange rune that kept popping up. It had been a simple plan; they had never expected to even be in danger. Everything they had learnt about the Deathly Hallows seemed a million years ago. Now Dobby… It had been his idea to call him. Ron remembered how happy he’d made Dobby when he gifted his Weasley jumper to him. His big tennis-ball eyes gleaming at him. Who more was he going to lose? Ron stayed by Hermione’s side slumped over her bed, and eventually fell asleep against her injured arm, holding her hand.


	2. Taste of Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had never written anything like this, but I'm pretty pleased by how it turned out! I hope you enjoy!

Ron stirred, his neck stiff. He wasn’t lying on his usual bed tent; he was hunched over. The images flooded back to him and his eyes flickered open. Hermione looking at him.

“How are you?” he didn’t hesitate to ask.

“’M alright,” Hermione mumbled through a feeble smile that attempted to mask the grimace.

Ron’s heart gave a leap. She still sounded like Hermione.

“Do you…?” Ron whispered, but couldn’t finish. He could not bear to ask her to recall the most agonising moments of her life.

“Yes,” Hermione said, knowing what unspoken question he’d meant, “but I’m better now.”

Ron opened his mouth but could not say what he wanted to, partly because he had no idea how to comfort her with words and partly because he couldn’t express the fear that had coursed through his body when he’d heard Hermione’s screams chill the blood in his veins. Over all the years they had shared moments alone, they had never endured a silence such as this. The stillness in the air hung heavy with an uneasy balance of grief and relief, a tension that would not be broken by either of them. Maybe that is why Bill’s arrival was perfectly timed, giving Ron the chance to refocus his thoughts and speak them to her at a later time.

“Ron, Hermione,” Bill said gently, “Harry is about to put Dobby to rest. Would you like to go?”

Hermione gave out a soft “Oh,” letting Bill’s words sink into the realisation that Dobby was gone. Ron frowned at his eldest brother, shooting him a reproachful look because he hadn’t had a chance to tell Hermione first. He thought once more of Dobby’s fragile body, what he had endured for them. Ron hadn’t even had a chance to ask how he had died; he had managed to rescue them and bring them to Shell Cottage. Had he been hit with the Killing Curse? Had he been wounded? Dobby had been so brave to return to the place of his servitude, of his unhappiness, to save Harry, Hermione, himself and the others.

“Yes, I want to go,” said Hermione as silent tears coursed down her face. She slid her legs to the side of the bed, wincing.

“Are you sure?” asked Ron, worried she was too weak still.

Hermione nodded, determined. Ron came around and wrapped his arm over her shoulders, willing to let her use him for support, for anything she needed or ever wanted. Together they walked out into the warm day. Ron saw Harry for the first time since they had been at the Manor. The rays shined on his matted hair, his clothes covered in grit and sand. Ron realised that none of them had washed or changed from what they’d worn since the day they had seen Lovegood. Only the passing of time would betray that it hadn’t been mere moments ago that they had Apparated onto the beach.

The funeral didn’t take a lot of time; it felt like they had not even left the room where Hermione’s injuries had been tended to when they got back. Ron helped Hermione lie down but she was adamant in staying seated on the edge of the bed. He didn’t want to return to the earlier silence where words had no place, so he did what he had been wanting to do since the day he left her and Harry, what he had hoped to do upon his return, and what he had not yet done. He threw his arms around her, enveloping her into his chest where the Deluminator’s light had shown him she belonged. The earlier tension finally freeing, as he let go of the cry he had suppressed since he’d awoken. Hermione surrendered into the burrow he had formed for her, digging in and absorbing the warmth and strength he afforded her.

In the hollowness of time, they had finally revealed what had been suppressed for too long. Hermione’s hands were wrapped around him, and Ron felt her small caresses on his back. She was sniffling against him as he breathed her in, her curly hair absorbing his sobs. That moment cured what potions and dittany hadn’t been able to, a spell more powerful than could ever be cast with a flick of a wand.

And yet, as if someone had muttered _finite incantatem_ , Hermione murmured against his chest, “We can’t, Ron.”

“I know… It’s my fault. I can’t protect you.”

“No? That’s not it!” said Hermione, pushing back to look at him. “Ron, the things I saw… the things I felt… The locket – it’s all _my_ fault. I lash out at you in anger. I-I’m not… not a good person for you. When I think back to you and Lavender –”

“Don’t.” cut in Ron. “That wasn’t real Hermione.”

“Even if it wasn’t,” said Hermione, “she gave you something that I hadn’t been able to give you. We had been best friends for _years_ and in all that time, I never made you feel good about yourself. I was vindictive and moody. Maybe I even put you down and didn’t realise it.”

“What are you on about?” asked Ron incredulously. “Hermione, it’s not your fault. I don’t care about your temper or your moods, I can handle that. I know you just need rest or food or even a laugh.”

Hermione shook her head, pressing on, “Last year I hated seeing you and Lavender together partly because it wasn’t me that could hold your hand or give you a kiss, but more because she gave you security that I hadn’t. She showed you how worthy you are. You are the most incredibly kind person I’ve ever met. You’re loyal, brave and smart. Do you realise I spent all my time outside of class studying to achieve anything? But it came so much easier to you. You could play Quidditch, be a prefect and take your lessons and still do well! Ron, I never told you how amazing –”

Hermione hunched over and broke down, covering her eyes with her arms.

“Stop.” Ron leaned across and pressed her to his chest to satiate the ache in his heart because he had never once thought of what Hermione was saying. His mouth hollow, dry and tasting sickly bitter. The inner corner of his eyes trembling with the tears looming to spill. He felt everything and at the same time, his extremities were numb. It was as if all his emotions had rushed into his core, leaving the ends of his fingers tactless, his toes empty. How is it possible to feel this much inside and yet his body would not feel a beating, not even the Cruciatus. It was _him_ that was at fault; _he_ was the reason they couldn’t be together.

“It’s me, I can’t protect you. I tried and failed. I left you and Harry, when I shouldn’t have, when I had given my word that I would carry out this Horcrux hunt with you. And sure, I finally get back, and I couldn’t protect you. Hermione –”

“Ron you did! I heard you, what you asked her!”

“It doesn’t matter! It didn’t matter! That’s the point Hermione! I am useless. I swore to myself I would not let anything happen to you, and look! Have you seen your scar?” He pulled her arm showing the evidence of Bellatrix’s curse, where the letters were scarring.

Hermione looked up, wincing. She stared at Ron and Ron flicked his gaze to her face, seeing her lips twitch and meeting her deep brown eyes. Despite all that she had endured, they were warm. He had always liked her brown eyes, a comforting brown that reminded him of the Burrow. Breathing in, he noticed her wild hair framing her skin, he was sure they had never taken each other in like this, both aware they were studying the other. The silence inviting further introspection.

Ron hadn’t let go of her, and Hermione turned her arm and caressed Ron, tracing her fingers over the swirls of his tentacle scars from a couple of years prior, sending shivers through his body. She interlocked her hand with his, securing them in place.

“I guess I had to eventually get scars of my own.” Hermione smiled weakly.

Ron looked away from her, looking out at the sea. The salty perfume floating in. A light dusting of sand drifting in and covering the windowsill. The sticky air clinging onto his skin. He had always loved the sea, wild and untamed beneath the surface of a soothing back-and-forth swoosh. Tread carefully around the sea, his father had told him once, it was easy to be fooled into thinking it was inviting. But Ron had always found himself drawn to it. There was no need to be trepid, he would dive straight in and figure out how to stay afloat. The sea was ruthless. It would gnaw at the cliffs and wear them down. Yet, it also yielded small surprises in the forms of seashells. Ron had figured out the impressive power, respected it, and also stuck around like cliffs had against its force.

With resolution, Ron gripped Hermione’s hand.

“We have been playing at this for years. I have never doubted it was you. I knew it was always you. It’s taken a bloody mess of a war to open up and if we come out, because Merlin knows the odds are against us, I want you, Hermione.”

Hermione’s lips quivered, her eyes rushing with tears, “Ron, I lo –”

“Don’t.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead and taking his free hand to wipe away her tears. “Not like this, ‘Mione. I know it’s real. The locket, the Deluminator, how I felt when I almost lost you. I finally understand. And although I have been waiting for years to hear this, if we don’t make it… if _you_ don’t make it, I won’t be able to endure it. Give me something to look forward to because I will fight for you and I will fight to hear you say that.”

Hermione gave Ron a nod and he reciprocated with a tug on her hand. They relished in the silent understanding because as soon as Ron left the room, they knew that they had to fight harder than ever. Today they’d had a taste of love, but they were still not free to live like that. Not until they destroyed Voldemort.


End file.
